


It's Not A Problem, Just A Challenge

by littlebitlostandfound



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, F/F, Inspired by The Last Five Years, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24493291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebitlostandfound/pseuds/littlebitlostandfound
Summary: And it’d be me and Cathy, and nothing else would matter. And it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.It’s what’s what I wanted.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Comments: 27
Kudos: 36





	It's Not A Problem, Just A Challenge

_I’ll be there soon, Cathy._

Only a few more hours until the premiere but Anne rushes home to prepare. Her mind is a whirlwind and she can’t seem to focus on a singular thought—she can’t think, only feels the joy bubbling in her veins, only feels the erratic thrum of her heart against her chest. She’s worked so hard to get where she is now, and she can’t wait to celebrate her success tonight.

When she arrives at the flat, she turns the corner and sees her wife in front of their shared vanity but she doesn’t move or acknowledge her presence. She doubts she’s even breathing.

“Hey, Cathy,” Anne greets gently, dropping her head down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Waiting for me?”

Cathy simply hums in reply. Anne raises an eyebrow, and she sighs in defeat.

“Do I really have to go?” Cathy tries to talk through the lump in her throat. “You know that I’m so proud of you, baby, but I’ve just had a rough day and I really don’t feel up to—,”

“We’ve talked about this,” Anne looks at her through the mirror, putting on small smile to ease her into going. “I know you don’t like these things but it means a lot to me to see you there.”

Cathy ignores the lie. She used to attend them, was once content as the pretty woman around her arm, but as years go by, Anne stops introducing her and she starts to get ignored for the rest of the night while her wife goes around and talks to people far more interesting than her.

It stings every single time, and she doesn’t know if she can endure another evening of fake smiles and waiting in the corner.

“So I can sit alone at a table with people I don’t know?” Cathy hates how quickly the venom seeps through her voice, and she takes a deep breath to reel herself back in. “Really, Anne, you leave me the minute you spot your friends. I’m doing the both of us a favour by not going.”

Anne bites her tongue before she can make a snap comment. Cathy was the one who encouraged her to pursue her dreams, pushed her to book that audition, and now that she’s finally, _finally,_ a recognized actress, Cathy refuses to come to possibly one of the most important nights of her career.

It gives her a whiplash.

“I don’t want to fight, not today,” Anne turns away from the vanity, not fully trusting herself to look at her wife in the eyes. “Just…why don't you just put on your dress and we'll go, okay? Cathy? Can we do that, please?”

Cathy regards her for a moment, thinks twice. She doesn’t want to disappoint her, but hell, she has feelings too and she’s tired of being set aside.

“No,” Cathy decides, her fists clenched on the table. “I’m not going.”

“What?”

“I’m putting my foot down. I can’t take it anymore,” Cathy relents. “We barely ever talk, I always try to work around your schedules but every single time, you get caught up in your shoots and I end up looking like an idiot waiting for hours at a restaurant for my wife who’s not even going to show up. So don’t tell me to come along when you’ve hardly done it for me.”

It’s a verbal slap to the face, but Anne doesn’t know what to do or say at this point. She turns around to stare down at the woman she has loved over the last couple of years. She’s not sure if she can confidently speak in present tense.

She hardens her heart and throws everything out the window.

“Why can’t you just be supportive?” Anne retaliates, and she ignores the incredulous look on Cathy’s face. “You’re the one who pushed me into auditioning, it’s not my fault they keep asking me to come back.”

“I _have_ been supportive, Anne, I’ve always been here for you,” Cathy jabs a finger at her chest. “Everywhere I go, I tell everyone that that’s my wife in the paper, that’s my wife in the movies, but not once have I heard you talk about me.”

“Because you don’t like the attention, Cathy! Don’t try to pin this on me.”

“But you’re also not doing anything to push them away!” Cathy seethes, her shoulders shaking. “We’ve been married for five years, Anne, and you think that I don’t see all these people throwing themselves at you? I see you looking at them and it kills me, knowing that you wish you weren’t tied down to me.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Cathy, you know that’s not true,” Anne lifts her hand up to her cheek and she’s surprised to feel wetness. She swipes at it angrily, taking a step towards Cathy, only for her to take another one back. “It hurts me too, you know, that you don’t trust me.”

Anne takes another step closer, and Cathy doesn’t move from her spot, the guilt immediately gnawing at her from the inside. She knows how little it takes for her to bend over, for her to step down and accept things just so they wouldn’t have to fight anymore, and she watches as her resolve weakens and the fight slowly slipping through her fingers.

“I just…I want us to be happy, Cathy. The film, it pays great, and you know that I’m doing this for the both of us. Please don’t take your anger out on me just because no one’s accepted your manuscript yet.”

A flash of hurt appears in Cathy’s eyes, dark and accusing. Anne knows that she’s crossed a line, but she can’t bring herself to be remorseful about it.

“H-how… _how dare you_.” Cathy’s anger rears again in splinters and cracks, albeit weaker this time, and her knees buckle and eventually give way. Hot tears spill over, and she finds herself on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“This is really what it’s all about, isn’t it?” The realization dawns on Anne’s face, and she looks down at her wife. They haven’t seen eye to eye for the longest time. “You don’t want me to succeed. I’ve finally landed my dream job and you can’t help but feel bad about yourself.”

It’s a disgusting thing to insinuate, and an even more disgusting thing to say, but when Cathy doesn’t protest, Anne knows she’s struck a chord.

She exhales, hurt blooming in her chest. She doesn’t bother kneeling. “I will not fail so you can be comfortable, Cathy.”

A choked sob escapes Cathy’s lips, and Anne fights the urge to take her into her arms and apologize for being so harsh. She knows how fragile she is, but she doesn’t want to care right now. She feels just as broken with her hands shaking and she hears the blood rushing through her limbs.

Before she can turn around, Cathy trudges her knees across the carpeted floor and quickly wraps her arms around Anne’s waist, grounding her down. She buries her face into her stomach, whispering ‘i’m sorrys’ and ‘i love yous’ and ‘forgive mes’ over and over, her hands fisting the fabric of her shirt as she cries.

Anne gives up for a second and lets her heart bleed for her wife—her remarkable, challenging wife—all the emotions hitting her all at once but it goes as quickly as it came. She takes a shaky breath, bringing a trembling hand up to card her fingers through her hair and they stay there for a while, trying to let this moment heal them despite the harsh words finding permanent residence in their hearts.

Anne glances up at the clock. The premiere is in three hours.

“You don’t have to go,” Anne tells her. She doesn’t think she can put up a brave front for the public after this. “I’ll stay at a hotel tonight. Give you some space.”

Cathy sits back on her heels, letting her arms fall limply by her sides. She’s been so adamant about not going in the first place, but after what they’ve just been through, she wishes she had just agreed to go.

“I love you, alright?” The words feel different on her tongue, almost foreign. “Go get ready. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She doesn’t wait for Anne to respond before she shuffles up to her feet and disappears into their bedroom. The door closes and Anne heaves out a breath, and then another, sinking into the seat of the vanity as she calms herself down.

She needs to get ready.

She goes through the motions, regrets that she’s opted to do her own hair and make up for tonight instead of having it done because she was under the impression that she would get to prepare with her wife. She imagines her straddling her lap as she puts on her eyeliner for her, imagines them styling each other’s hair and using more bobby pins than necessary.

She clears her head and zips up her dress, struggling a bit because she hasn’t not had help in a while. She takes her clutch from the counter and leaves the flat, waiting by the sidewalk for the limousine that was scheduled to pick her up.

She wills for her mind to leave home. Everything she’s worked for has led up to this moment—the red carpet, the lights, the press, the fame—and she gets her smile to reach her eyes. She momentarily forgets about the domestic squabble that has been plaguing her mind the minute it ended, and she eventually walks with a bounce to her step, giving herself permission to enjoy the evening.

It’s almost surreal. She rubs shoulders with people she’s only ever seen on screen, and she blushes at all the praise that comes her way. At the after party, they raise a toast to her and she almost wishes that she has Cathy next to her, but she shakes her head at the thought.

They’re celebrating her. It’s okay to be selfish tonight.

She dances and laughs with unbridled joy, and she keeps her drinking to a minimum so she can commit every single detail to memory. When she wakes up on a hotel bed the next morning, she stretches her body with a satisfied groan, smiling as little memories from the night before flash in her mind.

“Hey, good morning.” She hears a voice next to her say, and she turns her head, smiling softly as she reaches up to caress her cheek. She looks beautiful like this.

“We should get up.” Anne murmurs.

_Cathy’s waiting._

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the cast album today and thought, hey, this hurts a lot. So I figured I'd write about it!


End file.
